
Class __^S-3ca2f 

Book ^i^^d" 

GopightN" Ifd^ 



COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 



ELEGY, AND OTHER POEMS 

{SUITE OF 'UHE SEVEN GARDENS) 



ELEGY, AND OTHER POEMS 
by THOMAS HORACE EVANS 
of PHILADELPHIA m ^ m iSi 



THE NOVO PUBLISHING COMPANY 
3353 NO FRONT ST., PHILADELPHIA 



c 



LIBRARY of CONGRESS 
Two Cooies Received 

M.<\K 29 1907 
%^€c3yn(rht Entry ^ 

cuss f\ XXCNO. 
k 7 f JLA^ 

COPY B. 






Copyright, 1907 

by 

THOMAS HORACE EVANS 



THE KENDALL PRINTING HOUSE 

102 West Ontario Street 

Philadelphia 



MY SPIRIT MATE 

WHEN ELSE ALL FAITHS HAVE SINNED 

THIS BOOK I DEDICATE 

VO THE NIGHT WINTt. 



ELEGY 



Elegy 



I 

There's a bird within my heart, 

I feel the flutter of his wings ; 
And my breast is all a-start. 
As he sings ! sings ! sings ! 
Till the magic of his song thru my whole being rings. 



n 

O, 'tis not the skylark heard 

By the Poet, long ago ; 
Whose vision, heaven-sent, 
Alas ! I may not knov/ — 
This bird is singing darkly in my passions' flow. 



[15] 



m 

bird, within my heart, 
That calls so terribly, 

What is there of my soul. 
That you have come to me ? 
How shall I think to enter in your mystery ! 

IV 

1 know^ your melody ! 

Once it was sung before ; 
And he that listened, longed 
For a long lost Lenore ; 
You did not leave him, till he was lost forevermore ! 

V 

No ! You are not that Raven, 

Before men's eyes to stand ; 
And well he knew no raven, 

But you w^ere w^ith him ; and 
To me, as then to him, you come from shadowland. 



[i6] 



VI 

No vampire, as another, 

Later, has tried to tell ; 
No outward Thing ! But ever 

You drink at my life's well 
And feed upon my soul, wherein you seek to dwell. 

VII 

I cannot say you no. 

Evil though you be ; 
Your voice is wonderful, 

Which you have wrought of me ; 
But all is turned to suffering, at last I see ! 

VIII 

And if I struck my heart, 

Till swift in the dark flow, 
Its passion-tide w^ere lost. 
Would you care to go ? — 
Then you would seek another one to win, I know ! 



[17] 



IX 

O, to the Three dread Fates, 
Whose wisdom ends our days, 

Often in the night, 

Piteous prayers I raise ; 
But still your song some power merciless obeys f 

X 

And is there this strange Thing, 

Which must feed upon a life, 
And that seeks as prey a soul 

Where the noblest hopes are rife ? 
Then wo to me, the victim of unhallowed strife ! 

XI 

Sometimes, as the song 

Of the bird falls clear, 
I seem to see across 

The shadows, others near ; 
O bird, are these the faces of those you once made fear ? 



[^8] 



XII 

I think I see among them 

Him of the gentle word ; 
Who followed you forever, 

When your call he heard ; 
O, has he found that maiden yet, his youth who stirred ? 

XIII 

*Tis well you did not utter 

To me his losing song ; 
You could never win me 
With so poor a w^rong ; 
But you let me see some splendid thing and strong ! 

XIV 

Sing ! and sing ! and sing ! 

I have you in my heart! 
Ever must I listen. 

And my bosom start ; 
But that longing reaches not my truer part ! 



[19] 



XV 

There your call is felt 

As the pain that makes the pearl ; ' 
And my paean rises 

Above your song's mad swirl ; 
Till I sink heart-spent on its relentless whirl I 

XVI 

O, you do not kill, 

But you let me live 
To suffer every pang 

That your wish may have ; 
So my body yields you all that it can give . . , 

XVII 

Did my friend who left me. 

Think what in me lies ? 
Was that look he gave me, 

Of horror, or surprize ? — 
(Once, when he was near, I felt you in my eyes.) 



[20] 



XVIII 

bird within my heart, 

Will you never give me rest ? 
Fainting with this flutter 
Ever in my breast — 
God ! I hope none other be so hardly prest ! 

XIX 

Shall I guard you well, 

Till my life is done ? — 
Shall I hasten on, 

That short course to run ? 
And so to leave the visions which I could not shun ? 

XX 

1 tell you truth, O bird ! 

These visions you have brought — 
If by your magic out of 
My life-blood wrought. 
Or elsewise — by my passions still are eager sought ! . . . 



[21] 



XXI 

And this is all my being — 
Christ ! look down in tears ! — 

Is there naught of pity 
In my doom that nears ; 
I touch anew the shadows whence no ruth appears . . . 

XXII 

Now^ I see before me 

A w^oman's pallid face — 
Was it soul and body 

Met in our sinful grace ? 
(O, now you fear some visions, too, that live apace !) 

XXIII 

Then, 'mid the shadows, still 

Other forms I knew — 
Wan faces ! — rise again. 

Desolate passing thru I 
(O, do not blame me for that wrong I had to do ! ) 



[22] 



XXIV 

All my living is 

Effort how to know 
The inner being of those 

With w^hom Fate w^ills me go — 
But my poor body finds this difficult to show! 

XXV 

My soul is in the casement 

Of its prison, bound ; 
And I look out upon 

Its iron bars around ; 
And few look in, for fearing of the bird's wild sound I 

XXVI 

O bird within my heart, 

I feel your restless w^ing. 
And I know^ my soul is dying 
As you sing ! and sing ! 
But I dare not ask you why you have done this thing , . 



[23] 



XXVII 

O bird within my heart ! 

If your song has led me on, 
Tell me, does it lead 
At last unto the dawn I 
And will you leave me, will you, when the night is gone ? 

XXVIII 

Then above your singing. 
My own song, and true, 
May reach the hearts of those 
Who ne'er my own self knew — 
But in the Twilight now, my voice must follow you . . . 



July, 1906. 

[24] 



FIVE SONNETS: 

IN A DARK HOUR 



In A Dark Hour 



I 

THE QUEST 
] view Death calmly, not as one who fears — 

For me no tragedy disturbs my thought ; 
Its Mystery compels me as it nears, 

A consequence of things which 1 have wrought. 

To some it could seem over-dearly bought, 
And some may answer bitterly in tears — 
1 see beyond the frightful face it rears 

Some new Enchantment such as I have sought. 
The Beauty of the world, forever new, 

The Happiness it brings, to count for naught — 
That I may find in Difference the True, 
When Fate shall show me if indeed I knew — 

What matters then, so I have bravely fought, 
Or if I win, or if 1 fail to do ? 



[27] 



IN A DARK HOUR 
II 

BEYOND THE SET OF SUN 

If I should say a last farewell to Life, 

If I should turn to face the gulf below — 
Would it give end to all this hateful strife 

And passionate, which haunts the way I go ? 

It means farewell to those I love to know, 
Who are Life's dearest part — such is the knife 
That pierces me in heart ; no dangers rife 

Alarm me, evil as the path may show. 
Yet to me there are few who have been kind, 

Of these some are beyond the sunset glow ; 
And it is they, perchance, w^hom I should find, 

For those there are who tell me this is so. 

But if the Infinite will answer no — 
Then sun set in Destruction's awful blind. 



[28] 



IN A DARK HOUR 
III 

THE STORM 

I stand within the shadow of the night, 

The day extinguisht 'neath her deep'ning veil ; 
No pointing star arises me to Hght — 

The clouds scur darkly in the threat'ning gale. 

Forsaken, there is none I know to hail, 
Who, pitying, could turn me once aright ; 
The path leads on where terribly will smite 

The tempest, if my soul find naught avail. 
One time I knew the joy of Innocence — 

Harm passed me by, ere I awoke the might 

Of Passion, gainst whose mastery I fight 
Unequal, for the storm grows more intense 

As desperate ! If heart should fail me quite. 
Then will Night's low'ring shadows bear me hence 



[29] 



IN A DARK HOUR 
IV 

THE PRECIPICE 

I wander in the maze of utter Doubt, 

Beneath the pale, unconscious fallen mist ; 
I touch dead hands that will not lead me out. 

And feel their fingers cold and stark resist. 

My steps are led among strange things I wrist 
One time as o'erdrawn fancies but to flout ; 
Unseen lips press me, as with mocking pout, 

To be ensnared and useless fight desist. 
Once was I careless, know^ing not the maze 
That might involve my heedless chosen w^ays, 

My daring soul full passionate to rout 
In a perplexing gloom of sunless days ; 

Till now^, upon the precipice of doubt, 
The dizzy fall of its dread brink I graze. 



[30] 



IN A DARK HOUR 
V 

WHITHER? 

The rolling water washes at my feet, 
1 shiver at its chill w^ithin my soul ; 
Have I this Flood relentless, then, to meet ? 
For higher and still higher does it roll ; 
Such cannot be the blind, impetuous goal, 
Sought by my sw^ift Descent so far, too fleet. 
In a mad course of Life, but Death to greet — 
That hunt were cruel in the march it stole !- 
Perverse and fickle Fate surpassing droll. 
While I must stand its butt misfortunate. 
Lost in pursuit of pleasures, find, too late. 

In gaining part I must give up the w^hole. 
Then, as the final hour-stroke I await. 
What Hope rewards my cry importunate ! 



^ 



All on one night — December, 1902 

[31] 



OTHER SONNETS 



To One New-Born ! 



Thou immortal soul, 'cross what world-chasm w^inging, 
Art hither borne 7 What angel chorus singing 

Wafts thee God-speed in distant, sweet farew^ell ? 
Alone thou goest — but thine ow^n self bringing — 
Daring all in the venture ! Naught may tell 
The nriystery of the cycles w^hich impel 

Thy birth to this sad world of Fate s sharp stinging, 
Or if thy future lie in Heaven, or Hell ! 

\ et, soul, now earth-incarnate, greeting ! Later 

When thou have learn'd earth's speech, thou shalt no more 
Remember of the great Past beyond the sea, 
Where was thy former life. But to a greater 

May this brief passage lead — thro* Death's dark door, 
Into that light of joy which is to be I 



October, 1902 

[35] 



Lines to "An Autumn Singer" 



Where low sky spans the pallid light, 
Whose sun sets flat upon that sky 
Of Autumn, and where few birds fly 

Thru air that mourns the nearing Night, 

What chant sounds from those trees sunbright- 
What murmur from the Waters nigh. 
Ascends in strange, late Harmony P 

O, A utumn Singer, answer right ! 

Now wakes the Nightwind, dull in Pain — 
Gold with the dead Sun's mortal stare, — 

What meant His melody's Refrain, 
Which seemed to exorcise Despair ? 

Echoes the Song thru Wood and Plain : 
His Life that was, New Life shall bear I 



T)ecemher, 1906 

[36] 



Love's Rest 



Hien, Heart to Heart, asleep ! with even pulse, 
Life's mystery has borne us unto where 
The Languor of the Poppy stills the air, 

Forgetful how Day's agonies convulse ; 

Forgetful, more, of envious Fate's repulse ! 
Again, together, in this Garden fair, 
We dream, and murmur — dreaming, — as to share 

Each ecstasy — in all the World naught else ! 

If, sometimes, 1 may sigh and, half awake 
In chill of night breeze, turn, it is to shield 

Your Presence, for it seems my heart will break 

Ere that last kiss of Night, whose mortal time 
Does come. Yet to my Passion all shall yield — 

E'en Death I as we regain Life's happier clime ! 



February, 1907 



The Spent Bird 



Beneath a cloudless sun, my heart at ease — 
Oh happy day ! awake, I dream of Her ; 
So still the hour, I feel my pulses stir 

With every whisper of the summer trees, 

Then, sudden falls the air ; it is no breeze, 
But as a shadow^, broken on soft w^hir. 
That starts the swaying branch's leafy blur. 

Whose silent pause ends in no harmonies. 

I dare not ask what bodes this messenger — 
But as I look, the sun grows ever old. 
The cloud above the lake spreads low and cold, 

As that dread gloom wherein the Fates confer ! 
O ! where is She, my Passion longs to greet ? — 
Haste, ere too late, and fall before Her feet ! 



February, 1907 

[38] 



The Broken Flower 



The hour of Noon has filled the City street. 
Passing the Crowd, with downward gaze, I meet 

Upon the Pave, the eye of a bent flow'r. 
That bravely smiles, altho beneath our feet. 

And hast Thou felt Life's desolating pow'r ? — 
What once held Promise of a happy hour. 

Ends in Thy wasted Breath, that dies all sweet 
Where crusht beside the shadow of Life's Tow'r ! 

But one more love has found Thee, ere Thou die ; 
This pale, young Girl, whose way has led her by. 
Raises Thy blossom with its broken stem ! — 

O blessed Kiss ! compassionate so and pure ! — 
As Sin and Sorrow scorn the World's allure. 
Heaven its Pity yields to both of Them ! 



February, 1907 

[39] 



The Butterfly 



Straight from the Sun's red heart descends a Ray, 
Extinguisht in the hollow gloom of Night, 
Passes to Earth, unseen its scintling light. 

And sinks in substance strangely known as clay : 

Is that a worm ? No ; it is dead, you say — 
But see ! on yonder bush, a Flower bright 
Moves, and a-sudden flashes into sight 

A butterfly, and it has flown away ! 

What myriad Messengers of Life, astray. 
Traverse vast Space to lose the realms of Day — 
How many Hopes forever fail in flight ! 

Yet shall Imagining distrust its right, 
And Soul aspire but to an human End ? — 
What Truth, O Butterfly may you portend ! 



February, 1907 

[403 



Night On The Mountain 

I breathe the Quiet of the Infinite ; 

No murmur rises from the mighty gloom 
That, as a Sea asleep, surrounds me whom 

No Height of Destiny can save from it. 

Across the Trees a shadow seems to flit. 
Passing Their branches bent in silent room, 
As ripples dying from a far met Doom, 

Whose tragedy the Night space would transmit ! 

At peace, above, I see the pale Moon sit! 

And free at last from cloud wreath floating by, 
The Mountain crest stands all in splendor lit. 

Then distant in the gloom below, there breaks 

A tiny light, as fallen star would lie — 
(But O ! what other thought its sight awakes !) 



February, 1907 

[41] 



The Twilight Echo 

From distant Shadow whence the Night is bom, 
Across dim Fields and Waters lulled asleep, 
Sounds a clear note of melancholy deep — 

The call of some late homeward leading Horn. 

Then, *mid the silence closing in, light-lorn, 
I listen, while the Elms bend low and weep ; 
Till sudden breaks the vigil that they keep, 

A voice of singing, and I cease to mourn ! 

The Twilight fires bum faint along the Hill, 
'Neath darkening Sky that breathes the night- wind chill. 
That dreams of peace in Him who came to reap ; 

And as I meditate, I see afar. 

By broken summit of the valley sweep. 
The trembling brilliance of the Evening Star I 



^arck 1907 

[42] 



The Night Wind 

It is the fever of the city's breath — 

I hear the moaning of a sickly child ; 

And now the many crowded Park goes wild 
'Neath heartless lights that hide the face of Death. 

Then, from the shadows of a hill of Pines 

By placid lake, whose silver greets the Moon, 
It changes to dull surface of lagoon 

'Mid tropic flush, as star of Evening shines ! 

Again I wait, and strive with Hopes and Fears, 
Between Eternities to make a choice — 
Alas ! that sound of ne'er forgotten voice, 

Is but the echo of the long lost years ! 

" O Wind of Night, not all, not all rescind ! " 

" Not all.... all ! " sighs the breath of the Night Wind- 



march, 1907 

[43] 



The Glance in Passing 



'Twas but a moment I beheld his face, 

And then it lost me in the moving Throng ! 

O, vision perfect as a childhood Song, 
Whose spirit vassalage of Time and Place 
Is rent to Nothingness I and for a space 

The passage of another World along, 

Opens, defiant of a Fate too strong — 
The cosmic Variance of the Human Race ! 

Lost in the Maze, w^hose myriad threads enlace 
Our destinies, more cruel than Prison bars — 
(For Convicts, even, may share their griefs in Wrong !)- 
No Sound nor Sign, from Soul to Soul, may trace 
Life's real Identity — and if the stars 
Near in their orbits, yet 'tis not for long ! 



Marck f907 

[44] 



The Dreamer 



A filmy shadow darkens into Trees 
About long avenues of twilight glim. 
And as I dream, I see the Moon's white rim 

Float clear above the Wood's thin traceries ; 

Low, 'mid the river-rushes, sleeps the breeze, 

Nor wakes as moonlight finds one Tree's pale limb, 
Where resting Bird, as morning called to him, 

Stirs into Song of thousand extasies ! 

Sing on ! sweet Bird, while life is yours, Sing on ! 

Tho your brief joy too evanescent seem, 
Know that my soul awaits, alike, the Dawn — 

Alike, stirs restless of the Moon's pale beam ; 
And if I grieve for you, when you are gone, 

Alike, I vanish in a life's lost Dream ! 



March, 1907 

[45] 



Unblossoming 



Each day I gaze upon the Stalk of green ; 
The richest earth for it I thought too poor, 
The fairest sunshine for it, none too pure — 

Alas ! no flower on its stem is seen ! 

And it were happiness, if it would lean 

Against my throbbing flesh, and lulled asleep. 
Gain the refreshing of the Tears I weep. 

Till branches all with buds incarnadine ! 

But Tears are pale ! I view its arid mien. 

And I bethink me of a liquor red : 

Blood ! . . . only Blood ! may wake its Passion, dead,- 
And its pale spirit so incarnadine ! 

Then neither this denying unto Fate, 

The precious hour I claim, — but still / n>ait ! 



March, 1907 

[46] 



Ere Dawn 



The valley mist is broken in the flush 

That rims the Shadow of the Mountain-cloud, 
Whose huge, dim Figure, bent beneath Night's shroud, 

Holds Her last summit from the Sun's glad rush. 

And far along the fields, in frighten'd crush, 

A million Moonflowers hear Day's summons loud — 
Then answering other million Flowers crowd 

Impatient of the Twilight's Wonder-hush. 

To some, this hour is precious in delay — 

Friend speaks to Friend, he ne'er again may meet — 

'Neath glimmering lamps, a handshake, and aw^ay ! 
Fair fortune, one — one, fortune ill, to greet — 

Death's Convict, paling face to prison bars, 

Counts fiercely, now, the eclipse of Midnight's stars! . . . 



March, 1907 

[47] 



THE SEVEN GARDENS 



Out Of The Night 



(THE FEVER PATIENT) 

*' Oh, I am tired ! my temples burn me ! 

Mother, O Mother! stay, and I will 
Be quiet ! Give me a drink, and turn me 

So I can lie easy and still — 
Mother, O Mother, and are you near me ? 

I thought I heard you, and is it you ? 
Stay close by me, or else I fear me 

There is no hope for me to pull thru." 



{^ut the mother he calls, is far away — 
Too far to hear what the hoy would say.) 



i5i] 



OUT OF THE NIGHT 



" Mother, O Mother ! Fve often tried you, 

When I was wilful, and rough, and bad ; 
But I was better close beside you. 

Before I left you and made you sad. 
And were you lonely, home, without me ? 

But well I know how I should have stayed, 
Rather than have bad company about me, 

And all the trouble that it has made." 



{But the mother, at home. Weary and sad. 
Cannot know the sorrow her sick hoy*s had.) 



[52] 



OUT OF THE NIGHT 



" Mother, O Mother, how shall I tell you 

Of all the evil that 1 have done ! 
I fear to speak lest it repel you — 

A jail-bird would you own for a son ? 
O, w^ell you warned me, and I confess it, 

But evil and I grew easy friends ; 
As for piousness, I do not possess it, 

And now my sin brings its own ends ! " 



(But the mother, at home, is saying her pra\^ers 
Jill for her hoy, who is lost somewheres /) 



[53] 



OUT OF THE NIGHT 



" Mother, O Mother ! and if tomorrow 

Comes, and I'm better, with you Til go ; 
Mother, I'm done with giving you sorrow, 

And home I'll take you, if you wish so ! 
Mother, O Mother, before you found me, 

Prison bars shut in my cell — 
O, and I feared the walls around me — 

Take me away ! if you w^ant me w^ell ! " 



(^Ae doctor remarks, '* '^hat bo^'s quite sick — 
His pulse runs faster than watch can tick • ") 



[54] 



OUT OF THE NIGHT 



"Mother, O Mother ! is that you singing ? 

Sing, then, just as you used to do, 
When I was sick, and your songs bringing 

Me sleep, until I would wake up new . . . 
Kiss me, mother, and now forgive me — 

A boy's own mother will do this ; 
Nor let the w^rong I've done you outlive me- 

Tell me so, with another kiss ! " 



(*7TAe sicl^ hoy*s nurse watches till dawn, — 
But with break of da^, the life has flown ! 



ylnd the mother, the mother, far awa^. 
Knows only her heart beats loro all day.^ 



JJugust, 1906 

[55] 



Between Life's Twilights 

After storm, and after night, 
After pain, and heart's affright. 
Comes new hope again, and light. 

Still, the struggle and the wrong 
Give new power to Life's song ; 
So, endure ! — 'tis not too long ! 

Fear no sorrow ! — ^join the strife, 
Which is needed in full life, 
That were wasted, if less rife. 

From first dawn to evening's gloom. 
Many changeful shadows loom — 
Till they darken at the tomb. 

Then, when life's short way is past, 
And the long night gathers fast. 
Tired heart ! find rest at last ! 



August, 1906 

[56] 



Ext as y 



jt 



O, T)esire ! my arms will press you 'gainst wild leaping heart, 
My rapturous love caress you till in pain you start, 
And you shall die w^ith love's dart — 

Die of my dark passion 
In a happy fashion, for w^e shall never part. 



i^ 



Ever 'tis your eyes before me fix upon my soul ; 

And sw^eet mysteries float o'er me as mist o'er some shoal 

Where the troubled w^aters roll ; 

And I dream of that tempest 
Which shall smite on Them, — lest they attempt to gain my goal ! 



iSi 



[57] 



E X T A S Y 

In your eyes I see Their shadows, — ghouls that are grown bold 
To devour my love you had. Oh, 'tis your love is cold ! 
Then so — were you never told — 

They shall know ; this burning 
Is my heart, yearning death passion, that you behold ! 

Neither long should I await you ; by the bitter night 

I swear my blood would hate you for the moon's dead light, 

Now^ that it is love's twilight ; 

And no one may tell the violence 
I shall do you in the silence of the doom that gives me right. 

And I will not let those others, of poisoned fang. 
Stir in your soul w^hat smothers in its purple pang ; 
While the sun luminous did hang 

'Twas you took his life flaming — 
So I shall seize you, not shaming, since you stole of Him that 

Love sang. 

[58] 



E X T A S Y 

Then as Love's day is dying, the stricken gush 
Of the red sun lights phantoms flying in the flush 
Before night's onward rush ; 

And where her great shadow towers 
1 pick pale death flowers to still you in the hush. 

ST 



February, 1904 

[59] 



The Night Tide 



1 

I watch the gloom of light go down 

Upon the sunset sea ; 
With ebb of tide, o'er sinking sands. 

The waves wash listlessly ; 
While, cool and low, night's fallen air 

Still finds its way to me. 



II 

'Tis then, by shadow'd point of bay. 

Caught in the sun's last light, 
I mark a lessening sail, whose course 

Lies outward to the night ; 
A-strain, 1 view that silent sail 

Fade to a fleck of white. 



[60] 



THE NIGHT TIDE 



III 

So, in this darkening hour, there, one 
Has set his course away — 

Farewell ! And yet what hope had he 
Charged of the parting day — 

What vision his, of future dawn 
Across the twilight grey ? 



IV 

Oh, eager, futile thought ! I know 

The dizzy surfs resound 
But comes no voice from dimming sail 

To tell of hope it found ; 
No more the sea is silverlit — 

Night deeps the dead sand mound ! 



[6i] 



THE NIGHT TIDE 



V 

Now, even, fades that transient sail 

Beyond the far met line ; 
While ocean's flood, upon the strand. 

Fills larger its design ; 
Nor changes ever its long sound, 

Whose loneliness is mine. 



May, 1904 

[62] 



Accord 



I 

One strikes a chord of purest tone upon his lute, 
Yet to his splendid harmony the world is mute ! 

II 

Altho he sing his noblest still it echoes wrong. 

For earth's harsh keys hold not the burden of his song ; 

III 

And well if some, half doubting, seek to put in tune 
With his sweet melody their lutes, they weary soon. 



[63] 



ACCORD 

IV 

(First must the soul win from heaven Life's mystery — 
Ne'er else were passion wrought unto things heavenly !) 

V 
'Tis so he sings — nor faltering ever turns away, 
Eager for favor in the world's coarse roundelay ; 

VI 

All day he strives, until his lute long strained, grows dull — 
His strength spent, as the labor of the day is full ; 

VII 

And resting in the twilight calm his sinking breath. 

Hears, still, the lute ring on unplayed — then break, — comes 

death. 



[64] 



ACCORD 

VIII 
While glorious bursts upon his ear celestial sound — 
At last ! Its own, his lute's true harmony is found ! 

IX 

He sings ! All heaven is delight ! then low once more, 
Echoes his broken lute responsive from earth's shore. 



October, 1902 

[65] 



edallion 



THE RAIN OF MORNING TWILIGHT 

Rain ? O fallen tears ! — 
What passing souls, in sorrow, 
See life, with hopes and fears, 
Open upon the morrow ! 

The night is desolate ; 
The shadows in the valley 
Are thinned with roseate 
Descent of Dawn*s new rally. 

Some look across the dawn 
Their Way is Peace and Pleasure ; 
But others follow on 
With Night, sad for lost Treasure ! 

We do not half know truth ! 
And see with eyes that blind us 
Who renders perfect ruth ? 
That all so need should find us ! . . 

O, Morning rain ! sweet tears, 
Of healing for earths sorrow, 
Which in the dawn that nears. 
Bears fruit to heaven's morrow ! 



October, 1906 



[66] 



In the Garden of Love 



1 

AK ! 'twas in the Garden of Love 

That he sought delight of the hours, 

When the sun shone eager above 

The light of the fulling flowVs. 

* 

II 

With the fresh, sweet air of the dawn, 
In youth's gay strength he would rove ; 

While the life-winds beckon d him on— 
There, in the Garden of Love ! 

Ill 

So he wrung his heart of its blood- 
As a happy, heedless boy. 

Who is fain to follow the mood 
Of every fleeting joy. 

IV 

And many the flow'r show'd red. 

Blood-red, where its blossom stood— 
Twas a fevered extasy fed 

On the life-pang of that blood. 



[67] 



IN THE GARDEN OF LOVE 



V 

Till there sprang up poison flowers 
From the bitter'd soil — and instead 

Of the " innocents " of love's bowers 
Came rankling weeds of the dead ! 

VI 

Then, as the day sank dim — 

By the shadow of Night's towers, 

Lay the still, pale form of him 

Who gather'd the poison flowers. 



HSCovember, 1904 

[68] 



H O KKU 



Summer Night 



Endless insects sing, 
'Neath the moon, with the lagoon 
Waters whispering I 



Jugust, 1906 

[71] 



The Spring in the Meadow 



I drink cloud and sky, 
Cold and wet, out of rock, set 
In grass, hidden by. 



Jugust, 1906 

[72] 



The Young Girl 



GoWenrod, lily, 
Snowdrop ! Then two violets ! — 
Heap'd flow'rs wake — 'tis She ! 



Jiugust, 1906 

[73] 



THE SUMMONS 

(Love Song) 



6. G. S, 



The Summons 



Awake I Awake ! The Star of Morning 
Summons o'er the quivering Night — 

Turn away, old Sorrow scorning, 
Love has softly kist your Sight 
Unto new Delight! 

Hark I the message of the Morning — 
It is sweet to know His right ! 



[77] 



THE SUMMONS 



II 

All the Galaxies of heaven 

Yield before the radiant Dawn ; 
Twilight's chant is sharply riven 
Unto harmony of tawn, 
Wildly pulsing on. 
Hark ! the Galaxies of heaven, 
Answering Love's antiphone ! 



[78] 



THE SUMMONS 



III 

Hark ! Hark ! The star of Morning 

Calls — and You ? . , . and You ? . . . are gone 
Whither in the twilight, scorning 

Love's true light, that wakes to dawn 
Our Joy upon ! 
Then ere else may greet the morning, 

O ! to His embrace be drawn ! 



February, 1907 

[79] 



ELEGY, AND OTHER POEMS 

(SUITE OF THE SEVEN GARDENS) 



ORDER OF CONTENTS 

TITLE PAGE 9 

DEDICATION n 

I. ELEGY 13 

IL SONNETS [a] Five— In a Dark Hour 

I. The Quest 27 

II. Beyond the Set of Sun 28 

III. The Storm 29 

IV. The Precipice 30 

V. Whither? 31 

{b) I. To One New-Born ! 35 

II. Lines to "An Autvimn Singer " ^6 

III. Love's Rest sy 

IV. TheSpentBird 38 

V. The Broken Flower 39 

VI. The Butterfly 40 

VII. Night on the Mountain 41 

VIIL The Twilight Echo 42 

IX. The Night Wind 43 

X. The Glance in Passing 44 

XI. The Dreamer 45 

XII. Unblossoming 46 

XIII. Ere Dawn 47 

HI. THE SEVEN GARDENS : 

1. Out of the Night (The Fever Patient) 51 

2. Between Life's Twilights 56 

3. Extasy 57 

4. The Night Tide 60 

5. Accord 63 

6. Medallion 66 

7. In the Garden of Love .; 67 

IV. HOKKU : 

Summer Night 71 

The Spring in the Meadow 72 

The Young Girl 73 

V. THE SUMMONS (Love Song) 75 



(NOTE — The unity and continuity of this succession of verses is evident 
even in its, final movement — whose true reading is plain to those who run.) 

[80] 



29 1907 



